Old Friends
by Moonrays and fridays
Summary: No-one really thought much of it when Jess Mariano finally moved on. He'd given it his best shot, really he had.  Inspired by Adele's Someone Like You  One-Shot, short and sweet


Old Friends

I heard that you're settled down,

That you found a girl and you're married now,

No-one really thought much of it when Jess Mariano finally moved on. He'd given it his best shot, really he had. He'd waited, he'd fixed himself up, shiny and new for her to see. _I'm dependable now, I am, you can count on me now. I know I've said it before, but you can see how true it is now. I wrote a book, I have a job, a place to live. I pay taxes, I give to charity, I babysit my sister and help out at the diner._

_And I miss you. _

But she was never around to see. And he carried on, alone and happy enough for years. She was never going to look up and see him. But it was time, really.

Enough with this now, enough.

I heard that your dreams came true

Guess she gave you things I couldn't give to you

Rory Gilmore lived the life she had always wanted, all her dreams came true, as they should have. She gave up the big ring from the boy who wanted to marry her, gave up the avocado tree for the tour bus. And she was living her dream. A little apartment in New York writing, reading, living.

Except that she was lonely. And every now and then, in Washington Square Park, or at the bus station, or at the best record store in town that she hadn't dared to venture into, she thought she saw a boy she loved a lifetime ago. She saw his face in the scowling teenagers, the dark-haired boys who sat in coffee shops until the early hours.

She was haunted by him, but she had been for so long now that it didn't really seem so different. He'd always been there. He always would be.

Old friend, why are you so shy?

Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light,

He hadn't been back to the Hollow for a while, at least, not when he thought he'd see her. It was her move to make this time, and he wouldn't be the one to crumble. Who's turn to break now, who's turn for revenge? He would hurt her, the town princess, and would be driven away. Except, no-one gets the princess in the end.

He sits in Luke's, has a pleasant conversation with Lorelai about the antics of the town. A pleasant conversation with Lorelai. He isn't sure which happened first, either he'd become a grown-up, or people had suddenly started treating him like one. He finds it disturbing.

He asks after Rory, they're old friends after all, she'd said so, rock around the clock, two straws in a milkshake. Old friends, with history.

She'd moved to New York, Lorelai says. She was a reporter for The New York Times. Or she had been. Lorelai's mouth twitches in irritation, and he asks Luke for the truth later on.

'She couldn't take the loneliness of it all. Couldn't do it alone. She went to California.'

Jess suddenly sees the irony of their lives, criss-crossing through the country. She's living his life backwards as he's going forwards. She can't take life in New York, so she runs away to Cali? Haven't we written this storyline already? Can't we just skip to the end, where we meet in the stupid town this all started in, and fix what went wrong?

But no, because he thinks of the small diamond ring he gave to a girl back home, his quiet, contented life with a girl who loves him, and realises it's not his problem.

'What's in Cali?' he asks.

'Logan.'

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,

She can't get used to the weather, the constant blue skies, the friendliness. She misses the snow most of all. She misses her mother, and the possibility of New York that she threw away. She can't remember what her hand felt like before it was weighed down by a platinum ring with a rock the size of the sun. It catches the light and blinds her sometimes.

They are happy enough, as long as she doesn't think of all the women Logan must have slept with when they went their separate ways. But it's fine, it's good, because she's not alone anymore, she has someone to laugh at movies with, to talk to about her day. To prove something to.

At nights she dreams of the snow in New York, and a boy who told her she was an out-of-towner. She wonders if she's really a New Yorker now. She can't stand the lifestyle here, these trusting, happy people. Everyone wants to talk, everyone eats healthy and does yoga and goes running. She's hard pressed to find red vines, and she doesn't want to eat sushi anymore.

She wants angry people shoving her on the subway, strangers in a thriving city. She wants a home of her own.

I had hoped you'd see my face,

And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over,

She takes a day trip to Venice Beach, looks for clues, some ghost of him there. She sees his book in a few shop windows, and remembers he mentioned this place in one of the chapters. The boardwalk, the guy selling hemp hats. Some sort of metaphor for his life. Luke said his dad owned a hot dog stand, and she pretends she's not looking for it as she wanders down the boardwalk, too casual. She looks at the beach and wonders if he ever came here, if he liked the beach. She can't imagine him in the sun, well, she couldn't then, with the leather jacket and the scowl. Maybe...no, she's sure that if he was here, he'd shake his head, and get on the first bus back to New York.

She sees his father, a dark haired guy with an open smile and eyes that look familiar. She buys a hot dog, and says nothing, but the guy looks at her all the same, as if he almost recognises her.

She tries not to think about what her mother told her. Jess is getting married. She looks down at the ring on her finger. And so am I, I suppose.

Nevermind, I'll find someone like you,

I wish nothing but the best for you, too,

He's never been very good at pretending he doesn't care, so he doesn't mention it again. Doesn't mention that he thinks she should be in New York, that she didn't give it a chance, that it was the job opportunity of a lifetime. He doesn't say how he wants to move back to New York, now he's got money. That they were going to open a branch of Truncheon there, that he could afford it now. That he would have looked her up, they would have caught up on old times. Old friends.

Her wedding will be everything his is not, it will be large and lavish, full of people she doesn't really know. His will probably be ten people, max. Maybe he should invite her. Is that mean? Is it the right thing to do?

He asks Lorelai on the phone one evening, after speaking to Luke, and again, finds himself appreciating this woman who passed on so many of the traits he loved about her daughter.

'I think you should,' she says, but he notices something in her voice.

'You're plotting something,' he says.

'Me? Never! That a hoodlum should accuse an upstanding citizen, of the highest moral character...'

'Lorelai...' he warns, 'I'm past that now, I'm not fighting for her anymore. We're friends.'

'Friends, of course,' she says seriously, 'I just think it'll be a bit of a wake-up call for her. My daughter is more like me than she realises.'

'Well, I'm happy now.' He doesn't know why he needs to say this.

'I know, I'm very happy for you. Why don't you give Rory the opportunity to be happy for you too?'

He knows he's lost, and asks for her address.

Don't forget me, I beg,

'Do you think I should invite Jess?' She asks her mother, somehow feeling 'the J word' seems awkward in a conversation with her mother.

'Well, you're old friends, aren't you?' Lorelai says knowingly, sticking her tongue out at Luke as he shoos her out of the diner.

'Yeah, but, with everything...'

'Did you get his invitation?' Her mother asks.

'What?'

'Check the mail.' Lorelai says cryptically, and hangs up the phone.

I remember you said,

"Sometimes it lasts in love,

But sometimes it hurts instead,"

She's not really sure how she feels about the invitation. It's pretty, simple, funky. She wonders if he's marrying an artist. And so this is it. Enough now, back to being friends. Old friends, with history. Logan agrees to go because he now believes there's nothing between them. He's got her to agree to marry him, he's won the game. But Huntzberger always placed his bets too early. She doesn't want to take Logan to Jess' wedding. She doesn't really want to go, and yet she does, to peer in on his life from the outside, selfishly imagine what could have been.

There's something poetic about it, she supposes, like one of his books. She'll stand there, pretty but alone, watching and wanting as he stares at a girl he loves more than he ever loved her.

Every night she dreams of standing at the back of a church, watching them say their vows. Every night the girl he's marrying gets prettier, and every night he turns to her and grins, 'you had your chance, you had a hundred chances. Sorry.'

She wakes up panicked and irritable, walks downstairs to get a glass of water, and looks out to the garden with the avocado tree. They've never made guacamole.

Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made,

He dreams of her, walking down the aisle in some monstrosity that Emily's picked out. All those hundreds of people watching her. She'll be thinner than usual because they won't let her eat, and she'll go along with the plans they make for her, just like she did with the New York Times. It's too tough to be alone. He wonders when the last time was that Rory Gilmore did not have a boyfriend. Dean, then him, then Logan. He assumes there was a break after him. He doesn't know why, but he knows, the one smidgen of proof that she felt anything like what he felt.

And in this dream, he doesn't even shout when they get to the 'does anyone know of a good reason...' bit, he doesn't do anything but stand there and look at her. Her dress will cost more than his car, the wedding will cost more than any house he will ever buy, and Emily will look at him, recognise him and tell him how happy she is that Rory came to her senses.

Rory walks back down the aisle, smile plastered in place, and looks at him, 'It was your turn to break me. Your turn.'

He sits by the window and chain smokes till morning.

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Perhaps it was fate, as some would like to believe, or perhaps Lorelai Gilmore was an excellent schemer. Luke called her a meddler, but he helped too.

Stars Hollow owned them both, in different ways. For Rory it was her true home, always, the small town that had raised her, allowed her to be a big fish in a small pond, wished her on her way for bigger and better. For Jess it had appeared to be hell at first, but really, it was purgatory, waiting for him to be ready for the outside world. She'd been coddled, he'd be thrown in, or run away. But they both loved people there, they both returned, they both had family. And it was inevitable that two people trying to plan weddings would need to get in touch with their family, a family that was rapidly becoming one and the same.

Long story short? Neither Luke nor Lorelai answered their phones.

And their children came home.

It was an awkward day in the diner when Rory Gilmore and Jess Mariano met again. The town drew in to watch through the windows, and when they sat at a table and smiled over coffee, everyone felt rather disappointed and went home.

'So, congratulations,' she starts.

'You too,' he smiles, and feels like he might be sick.

'Are you gonna come to mine?'

'Are you coming to mine?'

They smile awkwardly, she taps her fingers on the table, he looks around for something to fall on his head. She's reminded of a moment many years ago, when they both felt just as weird.

'D'ya want a soda?' he asks, and she knows he remembers.

'There should be alcohol for moments like this,' she mutters, and he thinks this is not such a bad idea.

'How you liking California?' he grasps for a subject, and hates how he's fallen back on average topics. He should have asked her what she was reading.

'It's warm,' she rolls her eyes, 'I miss the snow. I went to Venice Beach.'

'Get a hot dog?'

'Yeah, the guy who ran the place was very attractive, familiar almost.'

He smiles at her with such frank affection she's not sure she can breathe.

'How's Philly?' she asks.

'Bored of the cheesesteaks. Moving back to New York, going to open a Truncheon there.'

'Really? Wow, that's amazing Jess, really.' Something knots in her stomach, and instead of that weird emptiness she's come to associate with longing, it's spiky and angry, and feels a lot like jealousy.

'Yeah, we're in need of an editor for the zine, if you know anyone in the city.' He's starting again, he cant help himself. He's got to fight her on every damn decision. Why? Why can't he let it go, it's her life to screw up. Except that she's Rory Gilmore, and she's meant to do great things.

'If you'd asked me a year ago...' She taps the table again, agitated.

'Well, it's no New York Times.'

'You heard about that.' Her voice is dull and flat. She's failed. And of course, he had to know about it.

'Unbelievable opportunity.' His voice is gentle, and he really has no motive. What's the point anymore, anyway? He's getting married, and so is she, and maybe he'll send her his new book when it's published, or maybe before, to get some notes. And maybe she'll send a few book recommendations his way, and if they're really lucky, they'll get to the cards at Christmas stage.

Maybe their kids can be friends.

He finds this thought so depressing that he rests his head on the table.

'I think we should reconsider this booze thing.'

The evening finds them curled on the floor in Luke's apartment with a bottle of tequila and a giant pizza, flicking through channels in agitation. They sit just close enough to drive each other crazy, and the nostalgia combined with the alcohol makes Rory want to cry. It's like it used to be, she thinks, I remember this, I remember all of it. Making out on this couch, laughing with you, fighting with you. What's changed when we're both here?

She looks down at the ring on her finger. That's what's changed.

He notices, and raises an eyebrow.

'It's heavy,' she says.

'No wonder, it could probably feed a small village,' he retorts, and tries not to feel stung.

She turns her attention back to the screen, and resists making a joke about Almost Famous. It's getting too painful.

They're half asleep in front of the television when she whispers it.

'I've missed you.'

He doesn't open his eyes.

'Then where have you been? It's your turn.'

Nothing is solved, but in their dreams that night, they do not picture themselves standing in the background at the other's wedding, but standing next to each other. They wake up holding hands, and realised the game is still being played.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,

But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,

I had hoped you'd see my face,

And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over,


End file.
